


Half Agony, Half Hope

by spirithorse



Series: Tales from the Titan Age [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4288107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirithorse/pseuds/spirithorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short stories written for <a href="http://imagine-jeanmarco.tumblr.com/post/121769606838/jeanmarco-week-hey-yall-so-im-running">Jeanmarco Week 2015.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Responsible For What You Have Tamed (The Abyss Gazes Back Remix)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new take on [Responsible For What You Have Tamed.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1064253) Written for the prompt "Begin Again".

“You’re getting too close.”

“Annie-”

“No. I can see where this is going.”

“Annie, I promise that I-”

“Listen. I’m already unsure about one of us; I don’t need to be doubting two. Look me in the eye and tell me that you will be able to go through with the plan.”

“I’ll be able to go through with it.”

“Look me in the eye.”

“I…”

“Fine then. Just remember that he doesn’t really see you when he looks at you. Everything he says, it isn’t meant for people like us.”

* * *

Jean landed on the nearest rooftop, remaining in a crouch as he panted for breath. From his new vantage point, he could see Eren making his way to the front gate of Trost, the boulder still propped up on his shoulder. It was slow going, but it was progress, real progress.

He grinned and stood up. There were still too many titans around for him to stay in one place for too long, and he didn’t intend to. He just needed a few moments to catch his breath and find the next titan that he could reach. Then he would be off again. As soon as Eren closed the breach, his clean up job would get easier.

Jean glanced down at his gear, taking note of how much gas he had left. It had almost become a compulsion since he had come back into Trost. He was fine for at least another hour, which was good. If he went back up the wall, Jean was sure that he would be rotated out for a fresh soldier, if they even needed soldiers on the ground anymore. It might be more effective to use the cannons on the titans that were crowded around the walls, thin out the ranks until soldiers could go among them with as little casualties as possible.

He rotated his shoulder, feeling his muscles protest. He wouldn’t mind the rest, maybe something to eat to keep him from collapsing from exhaustion when he stopped running on adrenaline.

Better yet, would be the chance to sleep. It felt like years since Jean had woken up. Even better than that would be when Marco came back from his duty; then Jean could tug him into their bed and curl around him. Then he would finally be able to sleep soundly.

There was a clatter behind him, Jean turning to see who had landed. He nodded as he recognized a cadet from his class, turning back to look over Trost even as he spoke to her.

“Hey Annie.”

* * *

Trost was saturated with the smell of dead bodies now, far different from the city that Jean had led him around once. Marco tugged at the fabric that was tied around his head, trying to settle it into a more comfortable place.

Marco could hardly recognize the city with all the buildings broken or damaged. He had seen Trost when she had been at her full strength, the streets full of people and laughter. And Jean had been holding his hand then, tugging him through the streets as fast as he could with a blush on his cheeks. Marco remembered laughing as asking Jean what was wrong. It was just a quick tour, nothing big. Certainly nothing to get flustered about.

He stopped at the entrances of one of the alleys, smiling to himself under the mask. If he remembered correctly, Jean had pulled him down that alley to kiss him, just to keep him quiet. It hadn’t stopped Marco from giggling and kissing Jean back, because he liked to and because he was allowed to any time he wanted. Jean would let him kiss and touch for as long as he wanted and that was wonderful. It was fresh and new, and so worth giving up everything else.

He had seen the life that was behind the walls, and humanity was not the monsters that he had been raised to believe that they were. They weren’t even the atrocious creatures that Annie had described them as sometimes. Sure, they could be petty, jealous and violent, but they weren’t that different from anything else. And to describe them all like that was like saying that all fruit was bad after eating an overripe one. Not all of humanity was the same, and it delighted Marco to no end.

After living with them for three years, after getting to see the world the way the rest of the cadets saw it, he couldn’t go through with the plan. Marco had kept his mouth shut for Trost, but he wasn’t going to do anything else. He was going to follow Jean into the Military Police and live out the rest of his life as a human. He was going to protect the home he had found, the one filled with just as many marvels as there were disappointments.

They would call him a traitor, but Marco could live with that.

He smiled to himself, reaching out to trace a hand down the wall of the alley. His moment of escape was looming in the distance; all he had to do was make it through the clean up.

Even that wasn’t so bad. He could distract himself when the work got too much by reviewing his knowledge of Trost. Reciting streets and the little tidbits that Jean had told him about them had gotten him through the worst moments. Like when he had found soldiers with looks of terror on their faces, dead on the streets. Marco would never forgive himself for being part of the cause of that fear, but he could at least grant them the dignity of a pyre and a name instead of the unknown label that had been given to far too many of them.

Marco took a deep breath, trying to ignore the smell of rot in the air as he turned to look down the road. After finding a group of trainees all crumpled together just at the start of the street, he needed something to calm his mind.

If that was the alley that Jean had kissed him in, then just five houses down would be Jean’s house. Marco remembered Jean pointing it out to him. Three stories high and far too hot in the summer according to Jean. Marco smiled to himself, counting down the row of houses only to stop at three.

There was another body splayed out in the street on its stomach. Marco could see where the soldier’s blood had stained the cobblestones around them, leaving a half halo of red over one side. From what he could see from a distance, the entirety of the soldier’s right side down to their hip was gone. It would make identifying them hard, especially sprawled as they were on the street. Marco was willing to bet that they were from the same squad that had died behind him. Apparently one had managed to make it farther than the rest, which was probably worse than dying in a group. The poor guy probably thought that he would make it out alive.

Marco shook his head and walked over to the corpse, slowing down at he got closer. He wanted to at least try to identify one person from the squad, just to be sure that they could all go with a name to remember them by. It was part of his penance for letting Bertholdt kick the gate down. So many people had died and he hadn’t done anything. The least he could do was make sure the dead got their names back.

He carefully circled around to the corpse’s head, freezing when he looked down at it.

From a distance, it had been hard to tell the hair color because of the blood, but he could see it clearly now. It was far too familiar. Marco held his breath as he knelt down to run his fingers through the blonde hair over the soldier’s ear down into where it went brown in the undercut.

It was a familiar motion, one that he had repeated countless times over the three years that they had been in training. It was one of the last things he had done before he had fallen asleep and the first thing he had done when he had woken up.

“Jean?” Marco choked over the name, carefully rocking the corpse’s face to the side so he could see it properly.

There was a chance that it was just someone who looked the same. Or he could be seeing things, because he had been working all day and he hadn’t been able to sleep for two nights in a row. The surviving soldiers were put up far too close to the hospital where they were treating the injured and dying soldiers and their screams filled Marco’s dreams. But Jean hadn’t been there. Marco had hoped that he had gone to find his mother or was in the hospital, waiting for Marco to bail him out. Anywhere but at his feet.

He rocked the corpse to the side, wincing at the sloppy sound of its insides moving. The disgust he felt at the noise was quickly replaced when he saw the corpse’s face.

He knew that face. He had spent his nights and mornings kissing it. He had spent most time looking in the familiar amber eyes, but he was used to them looking alive. Not desperate and dull.

Marco barely recognized the sob that he gave as his own, pulling Jean from the cobbles of the street to his lap. “No. No, no. Anyone but- We were going to join the Military Police and…” He swallowed, pressing his forehead to what remained of Jean’s. “Jean, what happened to you?”

There was no answer, and he wouldn’t get one from him again.

Marco closed his eyes, running his fingers through Jean’s hair. He was careful to keep away from the blood matted strands, because it was easier. Then he could pretend that it was a bad dream. If it was a dream, he would be woken up by the screaming from the hospital at any minute and then he could rush out and find Jean.

He bit his lip until he tasted the sharp copper of his blood, feeling the familiar shock down his spine. He was ready to transform if he had a purpose, but there was no point. The purpose that he had been working for was dead now.

Marco dropped his head so it was resting on Jean’s left shoulder, tucking his face against Jean’s neck. “Jean please, please just answer me. Please don’t be dead.”

He repeated the last phrase over and over into Jean’s neck, the words dissolving into tears.

Marco didn’t know how long he knelt on the street, crying against Jean. No one bothered to come close, not even the people who had been working clean up with him. Marco was glad of it, because he needed the time. He wasn’t ready to let Jean go, not when there had been so much more to do. There had been a full future before them and that was gone. Marco wasn’t even mourning the loss of that. It was the loss of Jean that he could barely wrap his head around. Everything that should have followed after graduation had been with Jean by his side.

Someone grabbed his shoulder, Marco jerking out of their grip. He hunched over Jean protectively, cradling the ruins of his friend’s head against his shoulder. He didn’t care that he was getting blood on his uniform, some part of it never wanted to get it off. Not when there was one of the officials staring down at him.

Marco knew what they would do with the bodies after they were cleaned up from the streets, there were pyres that were already burning behind the hospital. Jean would be loaded into a cart with more corpses and taken away. And Marco would have to watch him burn, lose him again. Anything else would be trinkets he managed to pull from Jean’s personal belongings before they were returned to his mother. Even then it wouldn’t be Jean; it would be a static reminder of what could have been.

The official pulled away, Marco thinking for a moment that the woman was going to offer her condolences. Instead, she just looked at the papers that were stacked against the wooden board she was carrying. “You know this one?”

Marco bristled at the easy dismissal of the fact that Jean had once been a person. He smoothed a hand down Jean’s arm before he could stop himself. The motion was automatic, something he would have done back in training to keep Jean from starting a fight with Eren. That he had done it without thinking made him choke on his next breath.

He coughed, trying to gather himself together. Jean deserved a better burial than another nameless body on the pyre. He deserved so much better than death, but it was the best that Marco could do for him.

Even with his throat clear, his voice was hoarse from crying. “He’s Jean Kirschtein from the 104th cadet class.”

He opened his mouth to say more, leaving it hanging open as he realized that there wasn’t much else to say, nothing that mattered to her. She wanted rank and identification, not the little things that had made Jean who he was. Like the little cocky smile that he would give when he was unsure or the softer one that was Marco’s alone. Or the way that Jean had thrown himself completely into everything, partially because he wanted to beat Eren and partially because he wanted to prove himself.

Marco wracked his memory for something else that would be considered useful, panic rushing in when he realized that he couldn’t remember anything. “I…I don’t know his squad number or who else was on it. I don’t even remember where he was assigned.”

Marco had been on the wall, taking turns dangling off it and helping refuel the people who had come back up. He had seen Jean, Connie and Annie getting back on the wall briefly, and he had wanted to check in with them before he had been called away by an officer. It had been the last time he had seen Jean, and he hadn’t even bothered to get a good look. “I don’t even know how he died. He was my…and I didn’t even…I don’t even know how he died. But someone must have seen it.”

He adjusted his grip on Jean, intending to stand up when the woman stepped in front of him. Marco wanted to snarl at her to get out of his way. He shifted his grip, freeing himself up to bite down on his hand. He didn’t care that there would be a panic at the sudden appearance of another titan; he just needed people to stop getting in his way.

“Cadet, get a hold of yourself.”

“He was my friend!”

“So were they.” She gestured behind her towards the other bodies. “They all had friends and families. They deserve to be identified, which is our job. We can’t do anything more. It’s been two days since the breach was sealed, and there are already reports of disease breaking out. We don’t have time for things like this. Just put him with the others.”

She walked away before Marco could say anything else, going to talk with the others. Marco just stared at her back, torn between two emotions. He wanted to shout at her, to beg her to understand that this was important to him. He had to know how Jean had died or else he would spend the rest of his life trying to figure out how he could have saved him. He also wanted to lunge after her, to use everything that Annie had taught him to bring her down.

Now he knew why Annie and the others had sometimes snarled out the word human like it was the most disgusting thing on earth. Marco could understand it completely and it scared him.

He looked back at Jean, all of the fight draining out of him. There was no point anymore, no point to his resolution to leave the other shifters. That was another thing lost to the future that he could have had.

Marco got to his feet, holding Jean close as he walked over to the cart. He made sure to walk as slow as he could get away with, giving the official a wide birth. He didn’t want to hear any more of her speeches, not when it would just remind him that all he had left would be ashes. A future couldn’t be built on ashes.

He lowered Jean’s body carefully into the cart, straightening out his hair as best as he could. It wasn’t much, but Marco felt that he had to. It helped soothe some of the ache that was building in his chest, the one that yawned wider when he realized that he would have to walk away from the cart. This was his last look, and he hated it. He wanted his last memory to be of a smile, not of the look of desperation on Jean’s face.

Tears were running down his cheeks again as he bent over to place a last kiss to Jean’s forehead but Marco ignored them. He brushed his fingers down Jean’s cheek one last time before turning away and nearly running from the cart.

* * *

Marco stared into the flames of the pyres, not really seeing anything that was going on. He barely remembered coming to stand where the bodies would be burned, although he knew that he had shuffled there in a daze. As soon as the orders had been given to disperse for dinner he had gone straight for the plaza where they were burning the bodies. Marco was aware of the angry grumbling on his stomach, but he ignored it, just like he ignored the way his feet ached.

If he really was like those monsters, then all he really needed was the sun to survive.

Besides, Marco didn’t think that he could eat anything. Not when all he kept seeing was Jean’s ruined face.

He swayed in place, catching himself before he could take a step to the side. He jumped when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, Marco turning away from the pyres to stare at the person standing beside him. Sasha just gave him a gentle smile back, squeezing his shoulder once before letting go.

Marco blinked slowly, glancing around him for the first time. He didn’t know when it had gotten dark or when the rest of his friends had showed up. Save for Armin and Mikasa, they were all there, the ones that had lived at least. Marco kept looking through them, hoping to find familiar faces. Hannah, Thomas, Franz, Mylius, Nac, Tom, Mina. Jean.

None of them would come back.

He rocked back into parade rest, ignoring the protests of his body. It was easier to stand like that, to keep staring at the pyres and let his mind slip away again. Marco appreciated that they others were there, that they had come to stand with him, but he didn’t want to be around them. He wanted to be alone with his grief because it would be safer. If he didn’t watch himself, he would yell at Bertholdt, Reiner and Annie, because they had promised him that they would keep Jean safe and they hadn’t. No one had and it hurt because everyone standing there had someone to lean on and he just had the empty air.

He felt someone pulling at his hand, Marco glancing down to where Christa stood beside him. After a moment of staring he let her have it. He didn’t need someone to hold him so he didn’t come apart, that had happened a while back, but others were suffering just as much as he was. Marco couldn’t ignore them completely, not when Christa looked like she had been crying for a while now or when he could hear Connie trying to keep quiet from where he was sitting on the ground.

Christa squeezed his hand, holding it in both of her own. “I’m sorry, Marco. He didn’t deserve to go out like that.”

Marco wanted to agree with her, because it was true. Jean was the one who deserved to live because he had done nothing wrong. There were so many things that Marco had done, far worse things that he deserved to be punished for. But not Jean, never Jean. 

“It should have been me.”

Christa squeezed his hand again. “Marco, no.”

She sounded so shocked and broken that Marco didn’t have the heart to push further. To her, he was just heartbroken. That was true, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the things he could have done. He could have tried to convince someone that Trost was in danger. Could have warned them about when the attack would have happened. He could have shifted and helped defend the district like Eren had, but he had stayed a human because he hadn’t wanted to interfere with the plan. He had wanted to stay a human because that’s all that he was, except the fact that he was a titan couldn’t be forgotten. It was the military’s job to kill the titans and he was still standing in their midst, with three others close by. If he was a better person, he would have told the higher ups exactly who the enemy was. But he hadn’t, and now Jean was dead.

He pulled his hand out of Christa’s, stumbling forward to where ashes and bits of bone had been falling out of the pyre. There was one little white shard that had caught his attention, the only thing that could call his attention from the pyre.

Even then, he didn’t know who the bone belonged to. He had kept track of Jean as he had been loaded onto the pyre, staring at the body of his friend until he was burned to nothing more than ashes. But he hadn’t kept track of every piece of Jean. All he could do was hope that the bone he was cradling in his hands was Jean’s, because there was nothing else of him left. His belongings would have been collected by now, taken back to his mother while Marco had been waiting by the pyres.

Marco couldn’t even bring himself to visit the woman, because he remembered when Jean had taken him to meet her before. She had been full of smiles and laughter, all of which would be gone. He wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye or commiserate about losing Jean, because all he could think about was the fact that he could have saved him and the fact that he was part of the reason that Jean was dead.

The thought made Marco close his hand around the bit of bone.

It was his fault that Jean and everyone else had died in Trost. All of their deaths weren’t on the choices of the commanders, or the soldiers who had fought so hard or run away. It was on him because he hadn’t bothered to warn anyone.

There was still a chance to. All he had to do was turn and point out the three traitors. If no one believed him, then he could pressure one of them into shifting. Bertholdt might panic enough to give the rest of them away. If Bertholdt wouldn’t, then he would, it would be simple enough to break the skin and shift. Making sure that no one else got hurt because of him was a purpose enough, and then it would be over. All of the deception, all of the lies, all of the guilt, all of that would be over with and he would be able to… Marco wasn’t sure what would come after, but anything would be better than just existing. There was a high chance that he wouldn’t be allowed to live, especially so close to after they had defeated the titans in Trost, but that would be a fitting punishment for his silence.

A boot scuffed against the stone, Marco looking up. He wanted to tell whoever had approached him that he wanted to be alone, but the words died on his tongue.

Annie crouched beside him, her hand hovering over his. Marco jerked his hand away, curling over it protectively. It was only a bone, and he wasn’t even sure that it was Jean’s, but he didn’t want anyone touching it. It was the only thing that he had.

She didn’t reach for it again, pulling her hands back so they rested on her knees. She even looked away, her attention on the fire instead of him. Marco relaxed slightly at the concession, loosening uncurling his fingers.

The gleam of white made Annie flinch, the girl playing with the straps on her pants before speaking. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You warned me about it.” 

“It wasn’t a test.”

“Then what was it? An extermination or just taking care of loose ends?”

For a moment, there was nothing but the pop of the fire as it chewed through the corpses. Then, he heard Annie get up and walk away. The sounds of her boots scuffing on the cobbles as she walked away was all the answer that he needed.

Marco sighed and stood up, taking the hand that Sasha offered to him. He allowed her to draw him back into the knot of cadets. Marco glanced over towards where Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie stood off on their own, nodding when Annie looked over his way.

She watched him for a moment before giving him a small nod. That was message received and understood.

Marco nodded back at her, glad that they had reached some kind of understanding. She wouldn’t be sneaking behind his back again.

He turned his gaze away from her, closing his hand around the bone in his palm. He turned his attention back to the pyres, letting his mind slip away as he stared at the dancing flames.


	2. Loved None But You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another bit of my [Victorian AU](http://eachainn.tumblr.com/post/117945384295/in-possession-of-a-good-fortune-60s-theme),  
> which is just the canon world with less titans, more stuffy morals. For the prompt "electric". .

“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope...I have loved none but you.”  
- _Persuasion,_ Jane Austen

* * *

 

Jean woke slowly, not bothering to raise his head from the pillow. The house was quiet around him and he was comfortable where he was, which meant that he couldn’t be in the townhouse that a few of the officers rented out for themselves. 

If he was there, he would have heard the traffic outside of his house that went on at all hours, from the carriages to the paperboys screaming the daily news. He didn’t hear the sound of Marlowe rushing around either, shouting for them all to wake up and get moving because they were all going to be late. If he took too long, Marlowe was always willing to storm up into his room and drag him out of bed. His own internal clock told him that it was probably late in the morning, which meant that Marlowe should have come around to roust him out of bed.

He shifted, settling back under the warmth of the covers and closing his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched up in the beginnings of a smile when he heard a moan from in front of him. Jean opened his eyes, watching the person in front of him shift, their shoulders tipping back slightly as they settled against Jean.

 _That_ was how he knew that he wasn’t in the townhouse. He wouldn’t have dared to bring anyone home with him, not even if he was on leave. Marlowe took a strong view of just what officers in His Majesty’s Military Police should and should not do. According to Marlowe, they were only to escort ladies home and no further. Anything else was beneath their dignity and a risk of their health. Jean had been tempted many times to bring home one of the men he found in some of the clubs, just to throw Marlowe off and watch him sputter. But he had never tempted fate, not when he wasn’t sure if Marlowe would report him or not. Jean was not about to get himself thrown in jail for sodomy, not when he could just as easily slip around the law.

There were always girls who were more than willing to take his money or the company of other likeminded gentleman in one of the clubs that he frequented. That way, he could take his pleasure and everyone ended up happy. Everyone except for Marlowe, but that was his own fault. He was the one who had sworn off prostitutes when he had started seeing Ms. Dreyse, so there was no reason for him to glare at Jean when Jean came stumbling back into the townhouse in the early hours of the morning.

It was Marlowe’s own fault that he was miserable, stuck in a courtship that Ms. Dreyse’s father seemed interested in drawing out. Apparently, the honorable Judge Mathis Dreyse wanted his daughter to be married to someone of a much higher rank and a captain of the Military Police wasn’t quite as good of a catch as Marlowe made it out to be. All of that led to Marlowe miserable back in Stohess while Jean had spent a glorious night with a beautiful man. And he planned to spend most of the morning in the same way.

He ran his hand down Marco’s side, smiling when Marco murmured his name. Jean nuzzled into the short hairs at the back of Marco’s neck, resting his hand on Marco’s hip.

Jean spread his fingers out over Marco’s skin, covering up the splattering of freckles there. He studied the patterns left behind, absently wondering how Marco had gotten them in the first place. He couldn’t imagine Marco spending too much of his time naked in the sun. The Marco he knew was always impeccably dressed and either surrounded by his sisters or wading through Stohess in the name of the law. He got rare glimpses of Marco when he wasn’t in public, and that blew him away too.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling the slight sting of where Marco had clawed at his back the night before. The few times they were able to meet up it had never been something like this. If anything they had only been able to kiss or rub off against each other before they had to rush off to their various obligations. There had been many times that Jean had cursed the fact that Marco had three sisters that were still unmarried, because it meant that he was constantly occupied. Marco’s own unit came second in the list of things Jean almost hated, because they seemed to take up the rest of his spare time.

But not this time.

Jean grinned and slid his hand onto Marco’s thigh. How Marco’s sister had been lucky enough to snag the current heir to the throne was beyond Jean, and he didn’t care. That she had just meant that he and Marco could hide away from the society of Stohess without comment. Streganna Palace was tucked away in the 250 miles between Wall Sina and Mitras, and was the private palace of the crown princess Historia Reiss. No one would bother them there, which made it a sanctuary. Jean was sure that Ymir and Historia were doing the same thing in their suite. Although, knowing Marco’s sister, she would have roused Historia before now.

He felt Marco shifted against him, the movement purposeful. Jean ground up against Marco, relishing the gasp that he got. “Good morning to you too.”

Marco laughed, the sound breathier than Jean was used to hearing. He scooted closer, hoping to hear more of it when Marco rolled.

Jean moved with him, rolling so Marco ended up beneath him. Their legs tangled in the sheets, Jean reaching back to push them away. He didn’t want anything blocking his view of Marco, not when he so rarely saw this much of him. He didn’t bother to hide the long glance that he gave Marco, a bit surprised by the way Marco seemed to preen under it.

It felt like the breath was punched out of him. Jean let out his breath slowly, reaching out to drag his fingers down Marco’s chest. “It _is_ a good morning.”

Marco laughed along with him, reaching up to card his hands through Jean’s hair. Jean allowed himself to be dragged down, purposefully dragging his body up against Marco’s. He smiled as Marco’s eyes flickered shut, barely keeping his own open. He wanted to watch all he could because their interlude wouldn’t last forever. They had a few more days and then they would have to go back to their duties and pretend to be nothing more than the best of friends.

He leaned forward to catch Marco’s lips, trying to forget the minutes ticking away as he pressed Marco back into the sheets.


	3. Burning the Midnight Oil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jurassic Park AU, only because Blue stole my heart and I need raptor cuddle times. Written for the prompt "vigil".

Marco looked up as he heard someone walk into the keeper station. He pushed his chair back to so he could see the door. He smiled when he saw Jean peeking into the room. “Hey, come on in.”

He had to bite his lip as Jean sidled in, checking all the corners of the room, probably thinking that something was going to jump out at him. Marco shook his head and leaned back in his chair, letting Jean taking his time. He was still new to the park, and not used to being around the dinosaurs at all times. By the way he was carrying on, he probably expected one of the raptors to come charging in, even though they were outside of the keeper center. Marco could stare through the glass that separated him from the sandy pit that they used for to house the raptors for their vet checks and, sometimes as a nesting ground when one of the raptors didn’t feel comfortable nesting out in their territory. Through the other side, Marco could see the wooden roof and bits of platform where he could step out and watch the raptors.

At the moment, the sand pit was being used as a nest, a small crater dug out in the center of it so the six eggs were protected. There were six in the makeshift nest, all kept in a carefully regulated environment. Marco glanced over at the read outs from the instruments, checking to see that everything was still in order. Nothing had shifted too much since the eggs had been put in the room, a good thing.

Marco sighed, the sound turning into a moan when he felt Jean run his fingers through his hair. Marco leaned back into a touch, tipping his head back in time to catch the smile that Jean gave him. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Jean leaned over to kiss him briefly on the lips, Marco trying to lean up and follow when Jean moved away. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah. Just getting a little impatient.”

“You? Impatient? That’d be the day.” Jean went back to rubbing his scalp, Marco relaxing into the motion. Jean seemed to be content with pampering him, Marco closing his eyes as Jean started glancing around the room. There was nothing that he had to hide in the first place. Jean was technically head of the artistic team in the park, but he was one of them just the same.

Still, it was rare to have Jean come visit him. Beyond his initial first tour, Jean had kept away from the carnivore keeper stations, preferring to stick to the dinosaurs that were less likely to eat him. Marco had tried to explain to Jean that the raptors wouldn’t eat him, they kept themselves well fed, but Jean didn’t seem to believe it. Not that Marco could blame him, Jean had seen all the scars Marco had from interacting with the pack. It didn’t matter that only one had been purposefully dealt, it was equally as frightening. After all, the raptors were just a few inches taller than Marco if they stretched their necks up, and many times heavier.

He whimpered when Jean stopped massaging his scalp, tipping his head back to see where his boyfriend was going. Jean just gave him a short wave as he walked across the station to grab one of the spare chairs. He hauled it over before flopping down beside Marco, flinging his arm over Marco’s shoulders. Marco leaned into the touch, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment.

He had been on watch since the last of the nest had hatched earlier that afternoon. According to the clock on the computer, it was 1:30 in the morning. Marco knew that he would be up all night and at least most of the morning, just long enough for Sasha to come in and relieve him. And then any rest he got would be on the cot in the back room. He wasn’t going to be leaving the keeper station until all the eggs were hatched, or they were sure that their collection was just duds.

Marco sighed and reached over to pat Jean’s leg. “You should get to bed, full day tomorrow.”

“I did, but I couldn’t sleep.” Jean scooted closer to him. “The bed was too cold. How long are you going to be out here?”

Marco leaned his head against Jean’s, wrapping his arm around Jean’s waist. “We’ll be able to tell if they’re all duds soon enough, but that might take a few days.”

“Can’t you leave the computers to run?”

Marco tried his hardest not to flinch, but he was sure that Jean felt it anyway. He felt Jean starting to pull away, but he reached out to pull Jean back quickly. “No, no. I mean, I could. But we might miss our chance to imprint on them. With the pack stable it shouldn’t be too bad but…we don’t want to take chances. That’s what caused this place to shut down the first time. And I don’t…” Marco licked his lips, looking back at the nest of six eggs. “I don’t want to lose one again.”

“Oh, that’s a story.” Jean scooted closer, gently rubbing Marco’s shoulder. “Come on, get it off your chest.”

Marco curled in on himself, aware that Jean was scooting closer to him. He gave into the slight tugs, finding that he was nearly sitting in Jean’s lap by the time that Jean was done with him. Jean rubbed his shoulder again, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Come on, Marco. Tell me.”

“It was my first year, everything had gone well. We used to let the raptors get on with it alone, we were trying the watchful neglect approach. The nesting seasons went fine, except that one of the chicks had something wrong with it by the time we saw it. I don’t know if it had fallen or if it had come out of the egg that way, but one of its legs was twisted.” Marco took a deep breath, leaning back into Jean. “Sasha, Hange and I came up with a bunch of ideas; try a build a brace so the leg had support, amputate and get a prosthetic. Anything to help the chick. But we didn’t get the chance. The whole thing went septic fast…and she died. She died while I was holding her.”

Marco was surprised by the way his voice caught on the edge of a sob. He bit his lip, reaching up for Jean’s hand. It had been six years since that incident. It was the whole reason why they had started taking watches for the eggs, because it had shocked all of them. Sasha hadn’t talked to anyone for weeks and Hange had shuffled around in a haze. They had fixed things for the better, and they had hardly lost a chick since.

He tensed as he felt Jean nuzzle into the back of his neck, slowly relaxing into the attention. He turned his head, sighing when Jean leaned his head against his.

“Okay, I get it. You’re on egg watch for the next few days. I’ll be waiting for you when it’s done.”

“Thanks.”

Jean hummed and kissed the back of his neck. “But I’m going to stay for a little bit longer.”

Marco nodded, not willing to argue. It would be a good thing to have company for a little while. It was better to have another person with him, because it meant he didn’t just have the same numbers for company. He reached back to card his fingers through Jean’s hair, leaning back into him. It was a precarious position with him partially in his chair and partially in Jean’s, but he didn’t care. It was nice and warm cuddled up to Jean.

He felt Jean press a few more kisses against the back of his neck, his boyfriend freezing at the chitter that came from the platform on the other side of the glass enclosure. Marco glanced over, smiling with he saw one of the raptors peering in through the glass. Marco smoothed his fingers over the nape of Jean’s neck before lifting his hand away from Jean. He leaned over to press the intercom button, leaning over to speak into the microphone. “Coming to check up on me too?”

The raptor froze at the sound of his voice, Marco watching as she turned her head from side to side before breaking into a short bob. Marco bobbed his head back at her before tapping the intercom button. “Yeah, I see you pretty girl. Nothing on the eggs yet.”

The raptor raised herself up to peer through the glass, looking between Marco and the nest of eggs before trotting off. Marco watched her go before slumping back against Jean. His boyfriend was still tense, Marco reaching back to rub at the muscles at the back of Jean’s neck. “Easy. You know Daenerys. She’s a sweetheart.”

“I know…but she scared the hell out of me. I didn’t think…” Jean moved behind him, Marco tipping his head back so he could watch his boyfriend.

It looked like Jean was looking for the rest of the pack, which was smart. If Daenerys had been on the porch then the other five were bound to be around. They had been keeping to their nesting grounds towards the center of their territory, so it was no wonder that they were starting to wander now that the chicks had hatched. Marco wasn’t surprised that they were coming to check up on the humans. For one, they had seen them take the dud eggs, and Marco knew that all of his girls were smart enough to know what would happen. They had been taking the supposed duds and putting them under a watch for the past six years. The might let him and Sasha take the eggs, but that didn’t mean that they would just let them get out of their sight. Secondly, they probably wanted to see Marco. He and Sasha had been giving the pack their privacy while they were nesting, and he was sure that the girls missed him.

Marco slid out of his chair, hauling himself into Jean’s lap so he could get at Jean’s shoulders. He watched as Jean glanced between the glass and himself, gently cupping Jean’s face between his hands. “Hey, look at me.” He waited a moment until Jean’s gaze went back to him. Marco smiled at him, sliding his hands up to pet Jean’s hair. “You’re fine. You’re safe. They’re not coming in here.”

Jean started to grumble, but Marco shook his head. “I’ve seen it all. It’s thick glass and codes on the doors. They can’t get in, and they don’t want to get in.”

“They look interested.”

“Only because they know that chicks sometimes come out of here. It’s their family and they’re keeping an eye on them.”

“Oh yeah, I can tell. One is giving me the evil eye now.”

Marco turned his head to look, raising an eyebrow at the raptor that was standing right in the middle of the porch. As he watched, he saw another head ease up from just underneath the glass, the raptor trying to just keep her eye above the edge, like that would keep him from seeing her. Marco sighed and leaned down to rest his forehead against Jean’s. “Oh God.”

“Yeah.” Jean laughed, sounding a little less nervous than he had earlier. “Christ, Marco, your kids.”

“They’re not.-”

“They totally are.” Jean groaned and tipped his head back. “I’m being cockblocked by raptors.”

He paused for a moment before looking back up at Marco. “Am I being cockblocked by raptors?”

Marco was about to say that they weren’t, but he looked over just in time to see another raptor step onto the porch. The third arrival bobbed her head, making the soft crooning noise that Marco associated with the girls grooming each other, or when Sappho and Anactoria got particularly amorous. 

None of other raptors seemed to be interested in forming a same-sex bond with each other, but that might have been because most of the pack was sisters. Sappho was a raptor form the pack before, the one that had been nearly wiped out when a disease had swept through the dinosaur population.

That being said, the raptors might not have been interested in forming same-sex relationships with each other, but they were _very_ interested in who Marco was interested in.

He blushed as he heard the other two start up the sound, Marco resting his head against Jean’s shoulder. “I…I think they’re encouraging you. Or approving. I don’t know.”

“How?”

“They know you. They probably smell you on me all the time.” He lifted his head up slightly to see Jean’s expression, groaning at the look of shock on Jean’s face. “J-Jean?”

“The raptors know when we have sex?” Marco found himself nodding, watching and Jean turned his head to stare at the three raptors watching them. “The raptors know when we have sex.”

Marco sighed and patted Jean’s hair, watching the three as they jostled for a better view. He shook his head at them, just getting the same crooning sound in return. He looked back down at Jean, carding his fingers through Jean’s hair.

If he looked at the whole thing from the raptors’ perspective, Jean did look interesting. All of the females had dull plumage. Even Daenerys was a dull mottled grey, probably to keep them hidden from their enemies while they were nesting. Between him and Sasha, they were both dull, the only thing that Marco had to stand out were his freckles, which the raptors seemed to take as markings. Compared to their two keepers, Jean was definitely the brightest out of them with his blond hair. From the few times that they had brought out their males to breed, the girls had seemed interested in bright feathers, and Jean’s hair might qualify as bright.

Obviously he had spent too much time with the girls if he was thinking like one of the raptors.

Marco rested his chin on the top of Jean’s head, trying to ignore the raptors at the window, but that seemed to encourage them more. He closed his eyes, feeling Jean sigh against his collarbone. It was going to be a long night.


	4. Wilde Jagd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is kind of a Soul Eater AU, kind of based off of [this](http://kierlia.tumblr.com/post/75556815050/jive-made-a-cute-soul-eater-crossover), and kind of a mythology AU. Title is German for Wild Hunt. Written for the prompt "warrior".

The horses moved silently through the snow, Jean keeping an eye out as the group began to fan out. He gave their leader a glance where he rode in the front, but Erwin was almost invisible where he rode ahead of the group. The swirling snow almost made him and his pale horse invisible. Jean didn’t worry about missing orders, they had been given before they had ridden out. Besides, they were never too different from the other years that they had ridden out, the only things that changed were their positions.

The year before he and the others had ridden with an escort, a sort of graduation ceremony. Their instructors made sure they kept on task and kept up with the rest of the group. Jean swung his head, seeing Hange canter by on her blood bay, probably rushing up to join Erwin at the front. Shadis was already up there, as was Mike. The four of them would be moving out on their own soon, leaving the rest of them to fall into the usual pattern. The first four would ride through the main towns and graveyards while the rest of them rode out in sweeps.

Jean dropped his hand down to check on his flare gun, running his fingers over the end and down to the canisters. On the outer edges they wouldn’t get too many of the dangerous ghosts and creatures, but that wasn’t a guarantee. The four in the front were sure to attract the most attention, but most of the smaller creatures would scatter to the edges, and it was his job to make sure that they were all gathered up. Jean drummed his fingers against the end of the flare gun, watching the horizon nervously.

_“Jean?”_

He smiled at the familiar voice, looking back over his shoulder at the butt of the gun that was slung over his shoulder. “About time you woke up.”

_“I’ve just been watching. There’s nothing coming at us?”_

“Nope, just snow. The commander hasn’t even called us to be on watch.”

_“What about Eren?”_

Jean stood up in his stirrups, squinting through the snow to see the riders that ranged ahead. He couldn’t quite make out Eren, but he could see where Ymir loped through the snow. She was a black shape against all of the white, pacing ahead in a zigzag pattern. Riding just a short distance behind her was Historia, the girl already resting her hand on her sword. Jean was too far away to see if she was talking to Ymir as they moved along, but he wasn’t too far that he couldn’t see the huge wolf’s body language. Ymir was relaxed, alert but relaxed.

He snorted and sat back in his stirrups. “Ymir isn’t worried. So we aren’t worried.”

_“Alright. I’m going to stay alert though.”_

“You do that.” Jean settled back into the saddle, nudging Buchwald along a bit faster. He wasn’t going to discourage Marco from looking. Anything to keep his partner happy. He was going to let himself take a break. It was a few miles since the last town, and it had been busy when they had ridden through. Those spirits had been difficult, running away from them and sending the Hunt scattering over the countryside to bring them all in. Jean flicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, giving the area one last glance before rocking back in the saddle, giving Buchwald his head.

The horse snorted and moved out into an easier canter, kicking up snow as he kept up with the rest of the Hunt. Buchwald snorted as a dark shape rushed past, Jean glancing over to see which one of the wolves was running past. From the huge size of it, he guessed that Reiner was moving towards where the rest of their wolves were, which meant that he was no longer hanging back by Connie and Sasha. Jean was more that willing to let it go, except that he saw Reiner’s easy gait suddenly change, the wolf’s head snapping up. Reiner didn’t make a sound, but he increased his speed. Up ahead, Ymir did the same.

Jean frowned and scanned the sky, looking for a flare. None appeared, but he wasn’t about to discount what he saw from the wolves. He rolled his shoulder, jostling the musket he carried on his back. “Hey Marco, the beserkers have something.”

_“What?”_

“I don’t know. They aren’t singing.” He barely got the words out when there was a burst of light from the front of the formation.

Jean jerked his head in that direction, watching as a green flare went up through the snow, the flare just ahead of the howls that came from the wolves that were arranged around the group.

He quickly gathered up the reins, collecting Buchwald up as he waited for the word. He scanned over the snowy plans, expecting to see shapes looming out of the darkness, but he didn’t see anything. Jean frowned, about to defer to Marco when something slammed into him.

Jean yelped as he was thrown from his horse. He hit the ground hard, rolling away from where he could heard hoof beats in the snow. He didn’t want to get nicked by a horse as the rest of the wing moved past him.

He rolled onto his hands and knees, reaching back for where Marco was strapped across his back only to get hit again. He lost his grip on Marco and tumbled to the ground.

Snow trickled into his collar as Jean rolled. He shivered and tried to scrabble to his feet again, feeling someone tugging at his arm. Jean went with the pull, shaking his head to clear the snow from his eyes.

He glanced over to see Marco hauling him up. He grabbed onto Marco’s arm, helping as his weapon pulled him up. Jean leaned against Marco for a moment, panting for breath before turning. “Did you see what it was?”

“No, but it sounds like it’s moved to Bertholdt and Annie.”

“Oh, it’s done for.”

Marco chuckled at that, patting Jean’s shoulder. Jean could feel Marco shifting slightly, probably still looking around. The weapon jumped at a loud snarl from close by, Jean quick to run a hand down Marco’s arm. “It’s Eren.”

Marco huffed, Jean ignoring the sound to turn and look at the horse and wolf that were coming up. The brown wolf loped by, growling low as it stared out into the night. Jean kept the wolf on the edge of his vision, most of his attention on the rider that came up behind the wolf. “Mikasa.”

She nodded at him, her gaze fixed on something behind them. Armin peeked out from behind her. Jean nodded at Armin, watching the two of them carefully. “Eren pick up something?”

“Maybe…” Mikasa glanced around before reaching back to touch Armin’s leg.

The signal was understood, Armin leaning into Mikasa for a moment before dissolving into her weapon. Mikasa was ready, grabbing hold of Armin. She resettled the sword in her palm, letting her arm drop back down to her side. “Eren?”

The wolf made a huffing noise, glancing back over his shoulder before refocusing on something out in the night.

That seemed to make up Mikasa’s mind. She kicked her horse forward, she and Eren trotting out into the snow.

Jean watched her go, frowning before turning to watch the sky. He saw a lot of green flares, but nothing that would indicate something weird, at least for them.

He rubbed absently at Marco’s arm, deciding what to do. The decision was taken out of his hands when he felt Marco tense under his hands. He hummed to show that he was listening, not ready for Marco to step out of his arms.

Marco took a few steps forward before turning to look at Jean. “Ghosts.”

“Was that what hit me?”

“Maybe. I didn’t get a read on that before. Now, it’s just ghosts.”

Jean sighed, reaching up to brush the snow off of his clothes. He glanced over his shoulder, nodding when he saw that Buchwald had come to a stop a few steps away from him. He whistled, heading towards the horse even as Buchwald turned towards him. He grabbed Buchwald’s reins, swinging up into the saddle. Once he was secure, he offered a hand to Marco. “Ready to lock and load?”

Marco grinned at him, grabbing his hand without hesitation. He jumped, Jean catching his weight for only a moment before Marco changed. From there, it was easy to shift his grip on the strap that was attached to the musket. He hoisted Marco up onto his shoulder, throwing a grin back in the weapon’s direction. “Ready?”

_“Ready.”_

Jean kicked Buchwald forward, the horse lunging forward through the snow. He rocked with the motion, keeping one hand on Marco’s strap as he nudged Buchwald in the right direction.

More flares were starting to come up, all of them trending towards the right. The howls from the wolves were coming from that direction too, although those were breaking down into snarls as the wolves engaged with the creatures that were coming out. Jean smiled to himself and leaned forward, carefully swinging Marco down from his shoulder. He couldn’t see any of the ghosts, but he didn’t want to be caught off guard, not after the first scare. He aimed Marco down over Buchwald’s shoulder, squinting through the snow as they galloped after ghosts.


	5. Your Heart on the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of [this superhero AU](http://eachainn.tumblr.com/tagged/superhero%20au) that I wrote. Title taken from _Little Lion Man_ by Mumford and Sons. Written for the prompt "apologies".

Marco leaned against the railing, staring down at the city. The view usually took his breath away, proof that the war that he had fought and all the lives that had been lost during it had been worth it. This was the world as it was supposed to be, not restricted behind walls. There was nothing but humanity, living as they should for miles around. Usually, that would be enough to snap him out of whatever blues he was feeling.

Now, all he could stare down at the streets below and pick out the places that he and Jean had been. The conclusion he was quickly coming was that he and Jean had been all over the city, and that was just making him feel worse.

He groaned and leaned forward, almost resting his head against the railing.

He had messed up, and messed up badly. He had been ordered to keep his identity secret, and he had agreed with the order. It made sense to keep the fact that he was The Captain a secret, he had been such a hero in his day and time had just increased the appeal. Marco was almost glad that Director Erwin had come up with the plan. He didn’t think he would have been able to survive coming out of the crystal if there had been people coming to talk to him all the time. It had taken months for him to be able to walk the streets of Trost without panicking.

With all of that, he should have known that starting anything would blow up in his face, but he hadn’t even thought to resist Jean. It had been fun in a way, to be able to look at Trost through the eyes of someone else and _not_ see everything that he had left behind. With Jean, the new world was palatable instead of something to be feared.

Before things had gotten so far, he should have said something. It would have been easier to ask permission, especially since he had known that RECON had been watching Jean and his friends. Director Smith should have given him permission and, if not, Marco should have told Jean anyway. It would have easier than waiting for Jean to find out himself.

Marco sighed, watching his fingers tighten on the railing. He had to make it right, even if it would only ease his own conscious. The problem was, he didn’t know how. All he knew was that Jean was somewhere on the ship, and he probably didn’t want to be found.

He stared at his sleeve, standing up straight with a groan. He struggled out of his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder without even looking where it landed.

Marco expected to hear it knock against the table or one of the chairs. Instead, he heard a soft grunt and the sound of the jacket landing on someone. Marco swallowed and turned around, the metal railing he was bending under his hands as he stared at Jean.

He watched as Jean stared down at the jacket, trying to crush the urge to rush over and flip the jacket over so it was hiding the unicorn. He didn’t want to stare at the reminder of what he had been lying about. He just wanted to go back to being Marco Bodt, _Jean’s_ Marco Bodt.

“Jean, I…” Marco bit his lip, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t sound like an excuse. He was sure that Jean wouldn’t accept that Director Smith had ordered him to keep quiet. Jean and his team had spent too long running around on their own to just accept the authority of an outside source. Besides, Jean wasn’t one for just following orders without an explanation.

He glanced back at the railing, staring at the dented sections that he had made. Marco winced and stepped away from the railing, still careful to keep his distance from Jean.

At least the motion got Jean to look away from the jacket, although he looked right at the damaged rail. Marco blushed and Jean whistled. “Do you have to pay for that, or is that part of the whole package thing you guys have got going here?”

“Uh. I don’t actually know.”

“All of this and you don’t know? That doesn’t sound like you.” Jean leaned back against the table, still cradling the jacket in his arms. “All of this fancy package and you don’t know what you can and can’t do. Waste of military resources.”

“This isn’t the military.”

“Fine waste of…whatever this is.” Jean chuckled, but it sounded forced. His hands smoothed over the jacket, Jean looking down at the unicorn on it.

Jean stroked over the unicorn, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Used to read about you, you know? Thought you were the greatest ever.”

“Jean.”

Jean didn’t seem to hear. “Reading the comics and watching your movies…it meant the world to me. I mean, you were just a normal person, and then you got these powers…it made me feel a little better when I was younger.” Jean folded the jacket and carefully set the jacket on the table. He leaned against the table, Marco watching as his shoulders slumped. “Of course, I was never really human. I was always something…different. But it helped early on, and it made me want to do what you did, help people with these.”

He held up a hand, Marco watching the gold energy flow around Jean’s fingers. Marco took a step forward before he could stop himself. He wanted to tell Jean to stop, because he had watched Jean overload just hours before. RECON didn’t have the data for what would happen if Jean stayed over his limit for too long, but Marco didn’t want to know. It was one thing that Marco didn’t want to know, not even in the name of science. He wanted Jean safe above all things.

Marco didn’t get the chance to tell Jean to cut it out. Jean winced and shook his hand to dispel the energy. Marco watched the bolt skip over the floor before it petered out. He looked back at Jean, watching as Jean turned around slowly.

“To have you here is great, don’t get me wrong. But I’m also pissed as hell. You _knew_ how much you meant to me, you heard me say it all the time. And you didn’t say anything.”

“I…I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Marco flinched back at the aggression in Jean’s voice. Jean even raised his hands like he was going to attack. Marco was sure that Jean wouldn’t, no matter how mad Jean was. Jean just stared at him, Marco watching as he breathed slowly to calm himself down.

Jean lowered his hands, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was…” Marco couldn’t stay that he was under orders, it wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t the truth. If he had wanted to, then he would have ignored Director Smith’s orders. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I was afraid.”

Jean looked shocked for a moment, then he laughed. “Afraid of what?”

“You. I didn’t know what you would do if I had told you. You might have thought I was insane or worse.”

“Worse?”

“You might have believed me. And this still would have happened.” Marco gestured between the two of them, one of his motions swinging over to where his jacket was resting on the table. “If you had found out any other way, would you have acted any different?”

“Don’t know, I never got the chance. I found out this way.” Jean leaned back against the table, staring at Marco. “And I’m still pissed as hell.”

“You have every right to be.” Marco smiled, glad when he got one in return. At least they were talking, that was better than watching Jean storm off earlier. Then again, it wasn’t a solution.

He scuffed the toe of his boot across the floor, “So, what are you going to do?”

He looked up in time to see Jean shrug. Jean crossed his arms and leaned back against the table.

Jean stared at him for a moment before sighing. “Sasha wants to join in on this, whatever it is. She thinks it’s safer than the three of us running around on our own. I don’t like it, but she’s got a point. We nearly died out there because we weren’t enough to stop it.”

“I meant us.”

Jean’s expression softened for a moment, Marco almost tempted to just step forward. It could be as easy as that, just simple explanations and promises that there would be no more secrets. He longed for that, because it meant that he could have his version of his life back. He was willing to be The Captain again, just as long as he could go back to being Marco Bodt. He had never gotten used to the double life that he had to live.

Back during the war, he had just been The Captain, or Captain Bodt, there had been no Marco because there hadn’t been time for it. The war against the titans had consumed all of their lives. Now, with the titans gone, there was nothing to do after the enemy was routed but to go home. It wasn’t something he was used to, more downtime than he had ever had before. Once he was fully caught up on what had happened while he was out, Marco wasn’t sure about what he was do. He had hoped that he would be spending time with Jean, actually getting to have the normal life that he had given up. But he might have wrecked that beyond all repair.

He flinched when Jean sighed, almost ready to back out of the room and leave Jean alone. He took a step to the side, stopping when Jean took a step forward. Marco was tempted to try and skirt around the edge of the room, just to get away and delay the conversation. He wasn’t ready to hear Jean say that it was all over, he wanted to believe that the life he had started to piece together would stay the same.

Marco stayed where he was, letting Jean walk forward until he was touching Marco’s arm. It took all he had not to scoot away, but he stood his ground. For all the lying that he had done, Jean deserved to have his say.

“Marco I…I don’t know where it leaves us. Can you deal with that?”

It wasn’t a break up, at least not officially, and it was more than what Marco had hoped. He smiled at Jean and nodded. “I can.”

“Can you deal with this while we’re working together?”

Marco swallowed, glancing over to his jacket. He had managed it before, back with his original team. He had had Mina back then, and he had been able to treat her no differently than the others. She wouldn’t have allowed him to do anything different. Marco couldn’t remember the two of them fighting, there had been other things to work their aggression out on. There would be spaces that fighting wouldn’t fill, spaces where he would be back home with nothing to do but stare at the walls or his uniform and wait for the next call. That would be what dragged on him.

He walked over to the table, picking up his jacket. Marco stared at the unicorn for a moment before shrugging the jacket on. He turned to look at Jean. Marco wasn’t sure if he saw relief or just resignation.

Marco fingered the buttons on his jacket before snapping into something like parade rest. He would have to learn to deal with the empty spaces in his life, at least for the time being. He wasn’t about to say no, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He sucked in a quick breath before meeting Jean’s gaze. For now, he could go back to living the double life. Here and now, he needed to be Captain Bodt instead of Marco.

He nodded at Jean. “I think we can.”

Marco expected the stiff nod that he got, holding himself steady as Jean walked away. Jean was probably going to find the rest of his team. He held his breath until Jean was out of the room, letting it out slowly as soon as Jean was gone.

That could have gone better, but it also could have gotten worse. Marco rubbed at the tip of his nose. At least they had a chance to patch this up, which was more than he hoped for.

He stepped out of parade rest, glancing back towards where Jean had gone. How long it would take was the question. He sighed and walked away towards one of the stations. He wanted to look at what RECON had on the three that they were adding to their team, he wanted to make sure he knew just what he was getting himself into.


	6. Someway Our Two Worlds Will Be One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the [modern day Grease AU](http://eachainn.tumblr.com/post/117523867718/tell-me-more-precious-cinnamon-bun) [that I did](http://eachainn.tumblr.com/post/118031464734/met-a-boy-cute-as-can-be-photo-booth) for Marco Bodt Week. Written for the prompt "Summer Loving".

Jean glanced down at his watch, frowning as he watched another minute tick by. He huffed and let his arm drop to his side again. He had volunteered to stay behind and wait for Connie because he assumed that Connie wouldn’t be more than a few minutes late. Connie might have a reputation as a troublemaker, but Jean couldn’t imagine him getting into trouble on the first day of school. He had managed it once and then swore off doing it again. But Jean couldn’t think of any other explanation for Connie being nearly ten minutes late for meeting the rest of them. It wasn’t like him to miss their meeting up at the local ice cream shop. It was Connie that had started the tradition in the first place.

He glanced down the hallway, tapping his fingers against the side of his jeans before making a decision. He would send Connie a text and then join the others. If Connie had gotten himself into some kind of trouble then Jean was not about to take responsibility for it. He was going to go down the street and help himself to some ice cream to chase away the lingering summer heat. And maybe, he would get lucky and get home in time to call Marco. He didn’t know when the other boy got out of school, but he was already itching to talk to him again.

Jean huffed, reaching into his pocket to dig out his phone. For a moment, he forgot what he was doing and went to call Marco, stopping himself at the last moment. They had never gotten around to talking about school schedules, there had been too much awkward flirting and talking about inconsequential things. The only important information he had gotten about Marco had been his name and where he lived, hours down the road in Jinae. Jean sighed, staring at the picture he had programmed into his phone before going to find Connie’s number. He was not going to pine over Marco at school, not when anyone could be watching.

Jean didn’t care if his friends knew, although he wanted to keep it secret for a little while longer to keep himself from the requisite teasing. It was the others at school that would make his life miserable. He had seen the shit pulled on Bertholdt and Reiner, and he didn’t know how they put up with it, least of all Bertholdt. Jean would have thought that Bertholdt would have shaken apart and started using Annie to fake some of his tormentors out, but he managed to stay strong. Jean just knew that he would crumble under the pressure.

That was his problem, according to his mother, he cared too much about what the wrong people thought of him. Jean didn’t see it that way. He saw it as saving his own skin.

He shook his head, focusing on the text he was sending to Connie. He had just hit the send button when he heard a shout from down the hall. Jean leaned out, smiling when he saw Connie barreling down the hall towards him.

Jean had just enough time to shove his phone in his pocket and brace himself for impact before Connie plowed into him. Even with the time to prepare Jean was nearly taken off of his feet. He stumbled back a few steps, his left hand flailing as he tried to find something to grab onto to keep him upright. He caught the edge of the nearest bank of lockers, holding on for dear life as Connie tried to squeeze the air out of him.

He wheezed, patting at Connie’s back with his other hand partially in greeting and partially to try and get Connie off of him. It didn’t work for a while, Jean gasping when Connie squeezed him hard one more time before backing off. Jean tipped forward, wincing when Connie slapped his shoulder one last time. “Damn it’s good to see you.”

Jean coughed, rubbing at his ribs. “I can tell from the way you tried to kill me.”

“I do it with love.” Connie grinned, peering around before rocking back on his heels with a huff. “Where’s Sasha?”

“She went ahead.” Jean jerked his head towards the door. “With the others”

“Sasha left me? The traitor!”

Jean shrugged. “It’s food, dude. Are you surprised?”

Connie pouted, staring mournfully at the doors. “I thought what we had was special.”

“Don’t talk to me about this. That’s between you and your girlfriend.”

“But I was taking care of the precious cinnamon roll.”

Jean stared at Connie, trying to process what his friend had said to a point where it made sense. He was partially sure that it was part of the weird code that he and his girlfriend shared. Jean was almost afraid to ask what some of it meant, considering that the code consisted of only food. Eren had asked once, but Jean hadn’t been around to hear the answer. The look on Eren’s face had been enough for him to decide to _never_ ask about any of Sasha’s quirks. It was better for his mental state.

Connie didn’t seem to see the struggle that Jean went through. He just poked at his phone before sighing, probably still mourning the betrayal of his girlfriend. Jean sighed, not knowing what to say. He assumed the two of them had figured this out before they started dating, or at least Connie was aware of what Sasha came with. Occasional heartbreak because of ice cream must have been in the negotiations when they decided to start dating.

“She says I deserved it.” Connie gave a melodramatic sigh before shaking his head. “Right, I have a reason for being late.”

“You get in trouble again?”

“No! I’m turning over a new leaf this year.” Connie puffed his chest out, deflating a moment later. “That and my mother is dangling my car over my head. So no, I wasn’t getting myself in trouble. I was helping show a new student around. We have most of our afternoon classes together.”

“You were showing him classes ten minutes after school ended?”

“Well now, but his locker is one of the shit ones and the others invited him to go get ice cream with us. He’s actually pretty nice.”

“As long as it’s not another Jaeger.” Jean didn’t think he could survive having another Eren Jaeger around. They had barely reached some kind of friendly accord a few years ago. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t care. Just bring him along. Let’s go before they decide to leave without us.”

“Yeah, give me a minute.” Connie rocked up onto his toes, peering down the hallway. “I’ve just got to- There he is. Hey, over here!”

Jean stared down the hall, seeing someone wave before they started to run down the hallway. He sighed and leaned up against the lockers. He dug his own phone out, not surprised to see a text from Eren waiting for him.

_‘Get your ass over here’_

Jean snorted and shot off his own reply.  _‘Just found Connie.’_

_‘What the hell.’_

Jean was about to send out his own reply when he heard Connie laugh. He looked up just enough to see that there was someone else standing beside Connie. He nodded, sending off another reply. _‘Connie’s got his act together. We’ll be there +1.’_

_‘The precious cinnamon roll?’_

Jean shook his head, not wanting to waste time asking the question. It would be more direct to ask Sasha herself.

He pushed himself away from the locker, coming into the conversation just as Connie was introducing him. “And this is-”

“Jean?”

“Marco?”

Jean looked up abruptly at the familiar voice, his mouth dropping open. Of all the people in the world that Connie could have been leading around Trost High, he had never expected it to be Marco. He ran his hands through his hair, laughing when Marco gave him a sheepish smile. “What…what are you doing here? I thought you went back to Jinae.”

“I did.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“We moved here.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Jean laughed, dropping his hands to his side. That was true, he had never asked if Marco would be going anywhere else, that had been something that they wanted to avoid. He shook his head, reaching out to touch Marco only to pull his hand back. He was almost afraid that he would wake up and realize that he was dreaming. Marco couldn’t be here, he was hours away.

Marco chuckled, reaching out to grab onto Jean’s shoulder and shaking him. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Jean was sure that he was smiling like a loon, but he didn’t care. Marco was right in front of him, he was in Trost. He took a step forward, intending to close the distance between them and pull Marco into a hug when Connie cleared his throat.

Jean jerked back, slipping out of Marco’s hold. He turned to look at Connie, wincing at the grin that was directed at him. He looked away, stepping around Connie. He cleared his throat, making an awkward gesture towards the door. “Let’s go before they leave us behind.”

He tried to ignore Marco’s glance of disappointment. He was only able to resist the urge to go around and grab onto his hand by putting Connie between them. Jean curled his hand into a fist, pressing that against the side of his leg. He wanted to hold Marco’s hand, even if it had only been two days since the last time they had been together, but this wasn’t the beach. He knew people here, people that could make his life miserable. Jean didn’t care that it was one more year, he didn’t think he would be able to push through that.

Jean shot Marco what he hoped was an apologetic glance. He would try to explain to Marco when they had time to talk alone, which wouldn’t be until they both went home for the night. Marco would understand, Jean was sure of that.

He sighed and focused on trudging the familiar route to Hannes’ Ice Cream Café, barely paying attention to what Connie was talking about. Jean would hear the same stories repeated at the shop and he would pay attention then. He was too busy trying to keep himself from drifting back into Marco’s orbit. Jean curled his fingers, feeling his nails bite into his palms. He could make through one afternoon without holding Marco’s hand, he had already done it twice since coming back from the beach. One afternoon, and then he could actually enjoy the fact that Marco was back with him.


	7. Half My Heart To Make You Whole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonheart AU, because the idea has been kicking around in my head for a while but never enough for a full story. Written for the prompt "Regret".

“Dragons!”

Jean started awake at the shout, already half out of bed before he knew what he was doing. It was an automatic action, Jean already scrambling for his spear when he realized what was happening.. He cursed and pulled on the rest of his armor, securing it in place. He could hear the others still struggling to pull on their armor, but he was far ahead of them all.

He had a good reason to be. The rest of them were just following orders from their king, sinking into the life of a boarder guard because it was easy. Once the dragons and the people who had protected them had been driven off and the half-dragon nightmares killed, nothing dared get in. It had taken the bodies of their enemy’s dead staked along the edge of the boarder as King Fritz had drawn it, but that had done the trick. The barbarians had stayed out, at least for now.

Jean stumbled outside into the courtyard, staring up at the sky as he tried to spot the dragons. It was too dark to really see them, the bonfires hadn’t been lit yet.

He cursed under his breath, storming over to one of them when he heard a loud thud in the courtyard behind him. Jean spun around with his spear pointed out, backing towards the closet pile of wood. As always there was a torch close by, but Jean was not about to turn around and reach for it when there was something on the ground. The dragon would be faster than him, and there were rumors about what the beasts could do. It was no good getting the fire lit if he was going to be the thing that started it.

His hand knocked against the bracket holding the torch, Jean quick to catch it before it fell. He glanced over his shoulder long enough to see where the oil soaked wood was, throwing the torch onto the pile.

It took a moment for the torch to catch, Jean staring into the darkness as he waited for the fire. He could see things moving, in the space between the barracks and the piles of wood. He could hear the tap of talons on the stone, Jean trying to track it before he heard the the sound of wings flapping. 

Jean jerked his gaze up, frowning as he tried to follow the sound. There had been a dragon in the courtyard, he was sure of that. But why would it fly away when he was there, helpless and blind?

There was a whoosh as the torch finally caught, Jean taking a moment to close his eyes. He would be blind after straining his eyes to look into the darkness. He didn’t want to stumble around, that would just end up with him impaled on his own spear. Anything in the courtyard would have the same disadvantage.

He opened his eyes, blinking them to clear the last of the spots. Jean looked around the courtyard, his spear dropping when he saw the ghost that was standing in the center of it.

That it was a ghost was the only explanation that made sense. Jean felt his hands shaking as he stared at the ghost, taking a step back when it stepped forward. “No. I saw you die.”

The ghost reached out and touched the space over his heart, the same place Jean had watched a broken spar of wood pass through. It was the same spot that he had watched a monster reach into.

“Jean-”

“No! I watched you die. I _killed_ you.”

The ghost looked sad, something that ghosts weren’t supposed to do. They were supposed to look mournful and tormented. They weren’t supposed to look happy to see their murderers. If anything the ghost should have been angry and threatening. Jean had not only killed him, he had taken him to the monster that had not allowed him to go into the afterlife. Everyone knew that any human that traded with monsters were denied the comfort of the eternal walls in the afterlife. Jean had made sure that the ghost wouldn’t ever be happy, which was all his fault..

He got a better hold on the spear, glad that the ghost had stopped trying to get to him. But the hurt look didn’t leave the specter’s face, and that cut Jean more than he could stand.

The spear clattered to the ground, Jean swaying in place. “I’m sorry! Will that get you to stop haunting me? I’m sorry for what I did! I didn’t mean to, I was just frightened.”

“Jean-”

He almost didn’t hear the ghost, too focused on the spear that was lying on the cobblestones off the courtyard. “I should have known better, but I was afraid, and you were my friend. And I killed you.”

“Oh, Jean no.” Jean felt the ghost touch him, surprised that the ghost was warm. Ghosts were supposed to be cold. They were spirits wandering lost, dead things with no warmth.

The worst thing was that he had felt the ghost cold before, right before he had messed up all of the ghost’s chances at rest. It was horrible that the ghost was warm again. That was only because of the monstrosity beating in the ghost’s chest, just under the scar that Jean knew was there..

He looked up, reaching for the scar. Jean brushed his fingers against the fabric, the ghost pressing his head against the spot. It was warm through the shirt, and beating fast, too fast for the ghost to be just standing. It was another sign that he had messed up. He chocked on the ghost’s name, barely getting it out when he heard a shout from the barracks.

Jean turned his head, staring at the group of guards that had finally gathered. Their captain pointed at the ghost, screaming and order as they pulled their bows back.

He panicked, pushing the ghost away. “Run!”

The order was automatic, something from the days from when his friend had still been alive.

But the ghost didn’t run, it just stared at him.

The creature that controlled it was smarter. It swooped down from the sky and snatched up the ghost in its talons. It was gone before Jean could blink, flying up to join the others wheeling above.

There was a whistle as the guard released their arrows, most of them clattering back to the ground without any of them hitting anything. The few that did stick ended up in the bonfires, piles of hay or the walls of the barracks. Jean followed the wobbly flight of one as it fell short, watching as the dragon beat a quick retreat.

He could hear the others shouting orders, cadets rushing around to set up the other bonfires and to keep watch. He only looked up when his captain knelt down beside him, staring at the man. “I…”

The man patted his shoulder. “You saw a ghost, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with your conduct Cadet Kirstein.” The man stood up, Jean wincing when the captain turned back around. “But remember that I warned you that this would happen.”

The captain walked away, leaving Jean to stare at the courtyard. He had been warned, but it was too late by the time that the news had come to him. Jean dropped his head into his hands, trying to keep himself from shaking apart as the rest of the guards ran around him.

* * *

Árvakr was looking at him strangely on the flight back, but Marco ignored it. It was easier than explaining everything that had happened. Besides, Marco suspected that she knew. She had been close the entire time, guarding him from anything that would have happened, even though Marco had told her that Jean would never hurt him.

When he had been wounded, Jean had done everything he could to make sure that Marco lived. He had hauled him up a mountain to make sure that Árvakr could help him. Jean had stayed by his side the entire time, making sure that nothing went wrong.

And then Fritz’s forces had won, and Árvakr had taken him away with the rest, not wanting to risk her heart. He hadn’t been able to grab Jean too, but he had watched his friend until he couldn’t see him anymore, and he had planned. He owed Jean for what his friend had done, and safety from what Fritz was doing to their home was the best thing he could think of. That’s what their attempt across the border had been.

Seeing Jean in the courtyard had been everything he had wanted, and then Jean had spoken.

Marco bit his lip, curling his hands around the spines on Árvakr’s back.

The dragon turned her head back, regarding him with one large eye before speaking. “Did he hurt you, my heart?”

Marco shook his head. “No.”

“Then why didn’t he come with you? That was a soulless place.”

Marco shrugged, hating himself for even suggesting that they go over to get Jean. There were others with them who had left loved ones behind, but they hadn’t demanded to go back to them. Marco had, and he was flying back empty handed.

“Marco?”

“I guess they…they got to him.” He took a deep breath, lifting his face so his eyes started to tear up. At least then he could pretend that it was just the wind, although Árvakr would know. She always knew.

She had told him that their shared heart felt physical pain, but emotional reaction came from somewhere else. But she always seemed to know.

He stroked a hand over her neck, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m as dead to him as when he brought me to you.”

The dragon hummed under him, her version of a concerned noise. “What do you want me to do?”

Marco glanced over his shoulder. He could still see the bonfires that had been lit. They were spreading along the boarder, lighting up the barracks. At least the stakes were gone, Marco was sure that he would have turned around if he had to have seen the bodies hanging there again. He remembered spending days searching along the edge of the boarder, hoping that he wouldn’t come across Jean’s.

At least Jean was safe, that was more than Marco could ask for.

He dropped his gaze back to Árvakr’s scales, shaking his head. “Take me home.”


End file.
